


No Voice to Call for Help

by o_WinterQueen_o



Series: (V: Psychological Terror) [2]
Category: Bleach
Genre: (V: Psychological Terror), Angst, Ficlet, Gen, Gift Fic, inspired by: heavenxpiercing & ivory-insanity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:33:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13513038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_WinterQueen_o/pseuds/o_WinterQueen_o
Summary: He can feel it... his body is dying...





	No Voice to Call for Help

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaleAutumn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleAutumn/gifts).



> Kari here, back at it again with the angst Bullshit™ This is a snapshot of what it was like for Ichigo before "Hunger".

"I don't mean to keep you under my control forever, Ichigo. You're so much better when you are, though... I wonder if you'd still be rebellious if I stop." The hollow ran icy fingers over a gash on his forehead as he spoke. Ichigo didn't even have the energy to shiver.

His body hurt. 

_Would he still be rebellious if this ever ended…?_

Deep aches made his very bones creak, muscles strain, nerves set themselves alight each time he moved even a little. 

_That was the wrong question to ask._

Headaches pounded against his skull almost constantly as hunger clawed at his underfed stomach and the call of sleep stung at the back of exhausted eyes. 

_The question was, **could**  he even  **try**  to be rebellious if the other’s control ended…_

Endless days of this regime… training and fighting… too long without pause or rest… night after night spent locked in battle rather than sleeping…. meals forcefully skipped… one night of sleep granted to him only when he could no longer physically move… This control of Shiro's was taking its toll. 

He could feel it, even if he couldn’t speak it… His body was dying. Though— somehow— Ichigo’s power and endurance continued to grow like this, his body couldn’t take it. The teen didn’t know how Shirosaki couldn’t see it… maybe he simply refused to see it in the face of his growing strength… 

Despite the pain… he knew… he knew on some level that Shiro was trying to help… in his own twisted way…  At least… that’s what he thought… deluded himself into thinking maybe… Because if his Zanpakuto was really doing all of this out of sheer malice… the teen suspected any last remaining shreds of fight left in him will crumble, and that he would simply break under the weight of such a realization.

Words hovered on his lips, yet they were not— could not be— spoken. He didn’t have permission. Yet, even if he did, what could he say to make Shiro understand…? He couldn’t think of anything really that wouldn’t just anger the hollow… If he said a word against this… he’d just be punished for complaining. 

Instead he simply sat, allowing the hollow’s cool fingers to brush over his bruised and broken skin as Shirosaki poured regeneration into him, sealing up the day’s training wounds— enough so they wouldn’t reopen, but not enough to prevent a scar.

He could only pray that someone stopped Shiro before it was too late.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, pls review!!


End file.
